


Requested to Attend

by Nary



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Begging, Developing Relationship, Diplomacy, Established Relationship, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Political Alliances, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rough Sex, Royalty, Size Kink, Threesome - M/M/M, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: The king had to marrysomeoneat some point, so why not this princeling?  It was just that, perhaps unrealistically, Matthys had imagined that Tyon might talk to him about it first.  Summon him back from the field and say, "Hello, love, I know this isn't perfect, I know it's been far too long, but I'm sure we can work everything out somehow."  Apologize to him, maybe.Instead, Matthys had to find out first by the rumours that spread among the soldiers, and then by receiving that cold, formal invitation. Requested to attend. Like he was just any other guest among the hundreds of nobles who would no doubt be there.  It was galling, but not surprising.  He would go, of course, but he didn't have to be happy about it.
Relationships: King/His Highborn Arranged Marriage Husband/Lowborn Male General
Comments: 17
Kudos: 152
Collections: Holly Poly 2019





	Requested to Attend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tassos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassos/gifts).



_Your Attendance Is Requested At The Wedding Of_

_His Royal Highness King Tyonius III of Eriast_

_And_

_Prince Istaf vel'Aminov of Durniaga_

_To Be Held At Noon On The Advent Of The Rose_

_At The Gold Pavilion Of Wintersgate Keep_

General Matthys Andrevis resisted the urge to crumple the invitation in front of the herald who had delivered it, at least. As soon as he could, he tossed it aside into the pile of reports, maps, and charts on his desk, where it would hopefully soon be buried, along with his hopes and dreams.

The peace was all but concluded. The war that had taken seven years of his life, and the lives of thousands of his soldiers, would be over - not because of some great victory, or because of his strategic genius, but because the Durniagan king had suffered a stroke that left him incapacitated. His queen, upon taking the reins of power, brokered a peace treaty that left neither side entirely happy, but did manage to resolve the conflict... and arranged for her youngest son's marriage to King Tyonius of Eriast, to help solidify the peace. 

It wasn't unexpected, of course. The king had to marry _someone_ at some point, so why not this princeling? It was just that, perhaps unrealistically, Matthys had imagined that Tyon might talk to him about it first. Summon him back from the field and say, "Hello, love, I know this isn't perfect, I know it's been far too long, but I'm sure we can work everything out somehow." Apologize to him, maybe. 

Instead, Matthys had to find out first by the rumours that spread among the soldiers, and then by receiving that cold, formal invitation. Requested to attend. Like he was just any other guest among the hundreds of nobles who would no doubt be there. It was galling, but not surprising. He would go, of course, but he didn't have to be happy about it. 

The trip back to Wintersgate would take the better part of two weeks, even if he rode ahead of his troops, and it was already the Ebbing of the Lily - to make it there by Rose would mean leaving within a day or two. There was much to do before then, and he would need to try and get some rest if he could, although he doubted he would manage. "Emrich!" he shouted, calling for his squire. 

The youth appeared in the doorway of his tent, looking perpetually frazzled as always. "Yes, General?"

"Start packing my things. We leave for Wintersgate in the morning."

* * *

Prince Istaf found the castle at Wintersgate a cold place. He knew that Eriast would be colder than he was accustomed to, in more ways than one, but, perhaps naïvely, he had imagined that his arrival there would be welcomed more warmly. Even if they weren't fond of him, his betrothal had brought an end to a war that had been raging since he was a child. Now, at nineteen, he was sent from his home to an unfamiliar land, to marry a king he didn't know - surely these people could at least look the tiniest bit enthused? Instead, they stood silently, watching as he approached the throne.

King Tyonius was, to the prince's private relief, handsome. At thirty-five, he was almost twice the age of his betrothed, and Istaf had worried he might have to feign finding him attractive. But the King was tall, slim, and elegant, and though there was a hint of grey in his curly chestnut hair and neatly-trimmed beard, it only gave him an air of power and authority. 

As he had been instructed, the prince made a bow to his future husband - not enough to seem obsequious, but enough to satisfy the demands of rank and propriety in front of the assembled courtiers. "Your Highness, it is an honour to meet you at last." 

Tyonius nodded. "Welcome, Prince Istaf. I hope you did not find the journey too difficult?"

"It was long, but the destination made it worthwhile," Istaf said, giving what he hoped was a not-too-flirtatious smile. He had been taught that the Eriasti were a proud and stiff-necked people, and he didn't want to risk causing offense on his first introduction. 

The king stood and, stepping forward, extended his hand to Istaf, who took it with only a little nervousness. "You must be weary. Rooms have been prepared for you," Tyonius said, not unkindly. "Adjacent to mine," he added, in a slightly lower tone that sent a shiver down Istaf's spine. "I hope they'll be acceptable to you, but if there's anything you require, you need only ask."

"Thank you, your Highness." Istaf raise the king's hand to his lips and kissed it, a gesture which drew a murmur from the crowd. He had probably overstepped the limits of Eriasti decency, but the look on Tyonius' face made it worthwhile.

* * *

The quarters were tolerable to Istaf - spacious, with a good view of the mountains, although a bit chilly - but he knew he would have to do some redecorating once he was the Royal Consort. The Eriasti went in for a lot of furs and antlers, it seemed. 

"Greetings, Prince Istaf," said a voice at his elbow. The prince turned to see a young maid servant there, who curtseyed politely.

"Ah, hello," said the prince, a bit surprised at being addressed so directly.

She smiled brightly. She must not be Eriasti, he decided - she was far too short and cheerful. Maybe one of the mountain tribespeople. "I'm Frena. I'm here to make sure you have everything you need. Are these rooms to your liking?"

"They're fine for now," he said. "Although I do find it rather cool here. I might need an extra blanket or two, at least until I get used to the weather."

"Of course, I can make sure some are available for you." He noticed she had dropped any honorifics - maybe this was just how servants talked to their masters in Eriast. 

Istaf tried to look casual as he asked his next question. "And King Tyonius' rooms are just down the hall?"

"Turn left when you go out of the room and you'll be facing his door," Frena said. He wasn't sure if she had a knowing smile, or if that was just her usual cheerful expression. 

"Whose rooms were these before mine?" Istaf asked, curious. It didn't seem likely that such fine and prestigious chambers had simply been unoccupied.

"Ah," Frena said, her smile fading a little. "They were the general's."

"The general's?"

"General Andrevis. He's, ah... he and the king grew up together. They're very good friends." She looked like she would rather be anywhere other than here explaining this to him. Istaf was fairly sure that even very 'good friends' didn't get the bedroom next to the king. Of course he had heard of the general - every Durniagan knew of his skill and brutality on the battlefield. The idea that he was occupying the room of a 'good friend' of the king, who was also a hardened warrior responsible for the deaths of thousands of his countrymen, made Istaf considerably more nervous.

"I'll get those blankets for you now," Frena said, and hurried off. Istaf flopped onto the (very comfortable) bed with a sigh. Maybe he could slip into the Eriasti king's room tonight and they could talk in more private surroundings, about his (ex?) boyfriend, and how Istaf was currently in his room, and whether he was going to be angry, and what the king intended to do about it... Maybe he could still make this situation work, somehow.

* * *

"I'm sorry, General. Your usual rooms are, uh, not available." Emrich looked anxious. "The prince of Durniaga is currently occupying them."

Matthys frowned. Perhaps it was a misunderstanding - with so many nobles packed into the castle for the upcoming wedding, no doubt every room had to be used, and there had been some oversight... Or perhaps it had been a mistake to come here after all. Maybe all this time apart had made Tyon grow weary of him, and decide to move on - or perhaps he thought to hide their relationship from his soon-to-be-husband, but continue to string Matthys along on the side.

"It makes no difference," he said, since at this point the only thing that could possibly resolve the situation was talking to Tyon, and poor Emrich certainly wasn't to blame in any case. "Whatever room you can procure will be fine. But I need to speak to the king as soon as possible."

"I'll try, sir," Emrich said. "With the wedding preparations, he's surely very busy, but..."

"But try anyway," Mattys told him. If he still meant anything to Tyon, surely he would make the time. If not... it would tell him everything he needed to know anyway.

"Sir..." Emrich hesitated, as if there was more he wanted to say.

"Spit it out, then," Matthys ordered.

"I heard that the Durniagan prince was kissing the king, in front of the entire court," he said in a quiet, mildly scandalized tone.

Matthys bit back his initial reaction, which wasn't suitable for squires. "The Durniagans are more... open about their feelings," he said, trying to maintain a neutral expression. "Their ways are different." And Tyon would be too polite to stop the little tart... maybe he was even enjoying it. Matthys sighed. "Assuming this marriage takes place, he'll learn how to behave."

"Assuming it takes place?"

"We'll see," was all Matthys replied.

* * *

It was past nightfall before Emrich knocked on the door of the extremely mediocre room Matthys had been put in, just as the general was getting ready for bed. "Sir," he said, quietly so as not to draw attention from anyone passing by in the corridor, "King Tyonius is able to see you now. If it's not too late..."

"It's not," Matthys said. At least, he hoped it wasn't. He pulled his trousers back on and followed Emrich to the king's chambers. He took a long look at the closed door to his former room as he passed it, wondering if the Durniagan princeling was in there or not. Then he tried to put that out of his mind - he was about to see Tyon, something he hadn't done in over a year, and he was already nervous enough. 

The door opened and the general stepped through it, leaving Emrich outside to wait for him. Tyon was seated by the fireplace, but he got up as soon as he saw Matthys there. He crossed the room in a handful of long strides, grinning like a fool. "Matz, you're back!" He held his arms out and it would have felt natural to embrace him, but Matthys couldn't, not yet.

The king paused when he saw the frown on the general's face, slowly lowering his arms and coming to a stop a few feet away from him. "Matz? Is something wrong?" 

"You're getting married, Tyon. How did you expect me to react?"

"I thought you'd be glad the war was over so that you could come back home. So that we could be together again."

Matthys frowned. "That's it? You thought I'd be fine with this... this capitulation? Because it would mean the war was over? I would have ground them into the dust for you, and then we could be together without _this_ hanging over our heads."

Tyon turned, rubbing his forehead. "But how long would it have taken, Matz? We already gave up seven years to this - seven years we could have been together. I didn't want to lose seven more. Or worse, lose you altogether."

"You could have at least talked to me first!" 

"It all happened so fast... I had to decide, and there wasn't time to call you back from the front for a conversation. I thought we could work it out once you were here..."

"You told me by sending me a wedding invitation, Tyon! You owed me better than that!" Mattys' voice was rising, although he was trying not to shout. "You shouldn't have just assumed that it would be fine with me!"

Tyon turned back, looking confused. "Wait... you didn't get the note with it?"

That brought Matthys up short. "What note?"

"On the back - I wrote to you to try and explain what I was doing... to say I loved you and we would figure this out together... I thought... oh, shit, Matz, I'm sorry. I might have guessed you'd just crumple it up and throw it away." Tyon stepped closer, taking his hand. "If all you saw was the invitation, no wonder you were mad at me. I must have seemed like the world's biggest asshole."

Matthys' anger receded slightly and he smiled down at Tyon. "Second biggest," he said, and pulled him into his arms for a kiss.

* * *

Istaf peeked out his door. The Eriasti knight was still standing in the corridor, trying not to look too bored. "Frena," the prince said, closing the door quietly, "do you think you can get rid of that fellow in the hallway?"

Frena, who was making up the bed with the extra blankets he had asked for, turned to him with surprise. "You mean like... _get rid of him_?" She made a throat-slitting motion.

"No!" Istaf said hurriedly. "Just... get him to walk away for a bit or something. I was hoping to talk to the king in private, and he's standing right outside the door. And probably everyone is already talking about how inappropriate and forward I was," he added. "They don't need to know I'm going to his room." 

"Oh, I see," she said, her smile returning. "I mean, they _are_ talking about that kiss. It's not the Eriasti way, to be that open, so of course they're bound to gossip. But sure, I'll see what I can do." She slipped out the door and Istaf heard a muffled conversation, then footsteps. When he next took the chance of looking out into the hallway, it was empty. He moved quietly down the corridor to the king's room, and then hesitated, unsure if knocking was the right course of action. He could hardly call for a herald to announce his arrival, though. Instead, he simply opened the door, which creaked on its hinges, thereby announcing his presence as effectively as any herald could have. 

The king was in the arms of a large, thickly-muscled man, but the pair of them jumped apart as soon as Istaf entered the room. "I apologize for interrupting, your Highness," Istaf said. He should have realized that the man standing in the hallway wouldn't be there if he wasn't waiting for someone or something. "I'll go."

"No, wait," said the king, once he had regained his composure. "We three need to talk before the wedding, and perhaps now is as good a time as any. Come in and we can all have a drink."

* * *

Soon the three of them - king, prince, and general - were seated in armchairs by the fire, each with a cup of wine. King Tyonius took a deep swallow, as if gathering his courage, and then began. "Prince Istaf, allow me to introduce General Matthys Andrevis, my..." He paused for a moment as if not certain what word was best. "My lover," he said eventually.

Istaf nodded. "I've heard of him," he said, trying to sound calmer and more in control than he felt. "I believe I took your room, General."

"It's no matter," Matthys said with a casual wave of his hand. "I wasn't expecting to sleep there very much. You're welcome to it."

Tyonius forced a smile. "I know this is an adjustment for all of us. Matz has been my companion since we were youths - he's my right hand. I mean no disrespect to you, Prince Istaf. I will of course treat you appropriately, with all the honour due to my husband. But I would sooner send our countries back to war than give him up." 

Istaf weighed those words, considering his options. It would be difficult to explain to his mother that he'd allowed the peace treaty she had worked so hard for to be torn up simply because he was jealous. Perhaps this marriage wasn't what he had envisioned in his youthful romantic daydreams, but it was unrealistic to imagine that a man of Tyonius' age hadn't had any other partners before him - or that he would necessarily expect to give them up once he was married. "What if I want to have lovers as well?" he mused.

"Then I suppose I would need to accept that - provided that they can be discreet. The court here is liable to talk."

"I've already noticed that, yes," Istaf said. "Discretion would certainly be important. And you, General, I imagine you've had to be discreet, to have been the king's partner for so many years."

The general shrugged. "I don't seek to be the center of attention. Being close to Tyon is enough for me."

Istaf nodded. "I can accept this arrangement," he said after a moment, and watched the pair of them let out the deep breaths they'd been holding. He might not be in complete control of the situation, but he wasn't without power either. "But I want you to include me in ruling. I didn't come here simply to be ornamental, or to bridge the gap between our peoples. I might be young, but I'm not stupid. I've been trained in statecraft and diplomacy, I speak six languages, I can help make this kingdom a centre of culture and learning, not just a military power."

Tyonius considered his words. "We would welcome your contributions. I'm sure you are very skilled."

"And I want to be included in your bedroom as well, at least sometimes. I'm also very skilled there." He waited for them to absorb what he was asking for. "I know you have a past together that I'm not part of. I don't expect that I can immediately be as important to you as you are to one another. All I ask is that you give me a chance - don't exclude me, or try to keep your relationship secret from me. Let me be part of it in what ways I can, and perhaps, with time, you will also have a left hand to go with your right."

The two older men looked at one another, unspoken thoughts passing between them. Finally the general gave a nod, and the king smiled. "I think we can make this work," he said.

"I'll leave you to your reunion tonight," Istaf said, rising from his seat and finishing the last of his wine. "I don't want to intrude. But on our wedding night, I want both of you to be there." He took great satisfaction in walking out, leaving them with dazed looks on their faces.

* * *

"What do you think of him?" Tyon asked, once they were alone again.

"I think he's manipulative and used to getting his own way," Matthys said, sipping his drink. "But I think those skills are better used for our people than against them. He's clever. He would be a worse enemy than his father ever was."

Tyon nodded, weighing his partner's wise words. "He's young. He can be moulded into what we want from him." Matthys could tell he meant that in several different ways. "And I don't think he's malicious or secretly plotting against us - at least, not currently. He wants power, but not at our expense - he wants it through us, not around us, if that makes sense."

Matthys gave a murmur of agreement. "We can work with him. I don't know about the wedding night, though - that's hardly the model of discretion you asked for."

"No, but I think he means it as a test. If we want to prove that we mean this promise of inclusion, he expects us to demonstrate it, even at the risk of being found out by the court. We'll figure out a way to sneak you in, don't worry. For now," the king said, standing and coming over to Matthys, "he did give us tonight. And I have missed you, very much." He pulled him up and gave him a kiss, before leading him over to the bed.

* * *

The wedding celebration of King Tyonius to Prince Istaf was a grand affair, with many courtiers and dignitaries from afar in attendance. The prince looked radiant in blue and gold silk, bringing out his fair complexion, while the king was regal if more sombre in a cloak of midnight blue. To his side, as always, was General Matthys in his suit of armor, assisting as needed but keeping out of the spotlight. When the ceremony was over and the festivities were drawing to an end, he even escorted the newly-wedded couple to their bedchamber, where he would faithfully stand guard throughout the night. The guests murmured about how loyal he was, and went back to their drinks. They didn't notice if the general's squire slipped off too, along with a servant girl, or if they did, they assumed they knew why.

Once they had made their switch, with Emrich assuming his master's armor (a bit large for him, but not too bad) and place at the king's door while Frena kept lookout, Matthys was able to slip into the royal bedchamber undetected. Tyon and Istaf were waiting for him, although it looked like they had something of a head start - literally, as the newly-minted royal consort was on his knees, busily sucking the king's cock. Matz pushed back a momentary flash of jealousy and approached the pair. "Couldn't wait, hm?"

Tyon smiled at him with a slightly dazed look he knew all too well. "He was impatient. How could I refuse my new husband?"

Matz leaned in to kiss him, then circled around behind him to embrace him that way, where he could look down over his shoulder at the young man who was eagerly sucking his lover's cock. It didn't feel quite as shocking as it had when he first saw it - instead, he could begin to appreciate the sight, and the way Tyon leaned back against him with a moan. "Don't rush," he told Istaf. "You still want him to be able to fuck you, don't you?"

Istaf paused, looking up at them both, his face flushed and blond hair in disarray. "If he needs a chance to recover, I'm sure you can do the honours, general."

"Doesn't seem proper," Matz said. "On your wedding night, your husband should have the first round, surely. Right, Tyon?"

"If you both keep this up," Tyon gasped, "I'm going to come right here..."

"Oh no, that would be terrible," Istaf said with a smirk, and then wrapped his lips back around the king's cock. Tyon gasped and ground himself back against Matz, who buried his face in his lover's hair, closing his eyes to savour the sensation. He embraced him, feeling the hitch in his breath, the way he tensed and trembled as he was sucked. 

"Go on," he whispered in Tyon's ear. "Let him have it. I can tell how much he wants it." 

Tyon gasped, "Only because you said so, love." The words sent a thrill of pleasure and power down Matz' spine, as Tyon braced himself against him, shuddering hard. Istaf swallowed every drop, licking his lips like a satisfied cat. Then together they helped guide Tyon over to the bed, finished undressing him, and laid him down. 

"I'm not finished," the king insisted, "I just need a few minutes. Maybe you can, hm, keep yourselves busy until then?"

Istaf looked Matz up and down, plainly admiring his thick, muscular frame. "I think we can." He slipped out of his fine silk robe, revealing a slender, pale body, decorated with little more than a few strips of lace and ribbon that left his cock fully exposed. He approached Matz, running a hand down his broad chest. "Your turn."

Matz wasted little time in getting undressed, allowing Istaf to assist him. The prince - no, consort now, he had to remember - traced a finger over some of his more obvious scars. "Arrow wound?" he asked, circling one on Matz' shoulder.

"Yes," the general said curtly.

"My people are very skilled archers," Istaf said with something like pride mingled with regret. "I'm sorry that you had to face them."

"They're not your people anymore," Matz pointed out. "We are." He lifted the young man all but effortlessly, and Istaf gave a little squeak, clinging onto him. "I've got you," Matz assured him as he carried him over to the other side of the bed. Istaf nuzzled and kissed at his neck, and Matz allowed it. "Now," he said, as he deposited him onto the mattress alongside Tyon, "I already told you I'm not going to fuck you first. It's not my place. But I'll get you ready for him," he said, nodding to the king, who smiled in return. "Roll over - get your ass up."

Istaf wasn't accustomed to being spoken to so roughly, but he responded to it in more ways than one. Before he really knew what he was doing, he had turned face down on the bed and was sticking his ass in the air like any common slut. "You said you were skilled at this," Matz said, retrieving a bottle of oil from where it was always kept on the king's dressing table. "What does that really mean? You've done this before?"

His face burning, Istaf turned slightly so he could speak without his face being muffled by the pillows. "I have... read a great deal, and received instruction and training on how to please my husband... how to prepare myself... I've practiced on my own..."

"So you haven't done it before," Matz said, cutting him off. "You're like a soldier who's only trained with practice dummies - you might think you know how to handle your sword, but it's different when you're in a real battle." He palmed Istaf's ass in one big hand, patting it. "It's fine, I'll take care of you." He poured a little of the oil over his fingers, and with surprising gentleness began rubbing them against that tight little hole. 

Istaf gasped, turning his face the other way so that he could look at Tyon. The king rolled onto his side, reaching out to stroke his husband's shoulder. "Relax," he told Istaf, "Matz knows what he's doing. He's done it for me hundreds of times. You're in expert hands." As Matz began to gradually push one thick fingertip into him, Istaf whimpered a little, but Tyon kept touching him, reassuring him. "You're doing so well... you look so beautiful like this." Istaf tried to concentrate on relaxing and ignoring, at least for the moment, the way his cock was throbbing. He focused on Tyon's voice - his husband's voice - and on trying to keep his breathing steady as Matz added a second finger. It only hurt for a moment, and then he was past it, savouring the stretch and the feeling of fullness, wondering how much more intense it would feel when it was a cock inside him instead.

Matz worked patiently, not wanting to rush the younger man. He took his time, gradually helping him to open up, taking note of his signals to know when to pause and when to push deeper, adding more oil as necessary. He glanced over at Tyon occasionally as well, watching his partner comforting and steadying Istaf. They always did their best work as a team, he thought. He could see Tyon was getting hard again, too, and knew that he would be ready again before long. "You're lucky," he told Istaf. "Tyon will go easy on you since it's your first time. I wouldn't be as kind." His gentle touch belied his words, though. 

"Matz' cock is so huge," Tyon said, cupping Istaf's flushed cheek in his hand. "It's a lot for your first time. Believe me," he added with a smile to his lover. 

"I... unhh... like a challenge," Istaf replied, stubborn and increasingly needy. "I could do it."

"Maybe," Tyon told him. "But your virginity belongs to me. If, when I'm finished, you still want to try him, I won't say no. But first..." He gave Istaf a kiss and then got up, coming to kneel next to Matz on the bed. "Do you think he's ready, love?"

"I think so," Matz replied. "He's been trying not to grab his dick for the last little while, and look at this." He drew his fingers slowly out of Istaf's ass, leaving it empty for a moment, drawing a desperate moan from him. "He wants to be filled."

"Please," Istaf begged.

"I can arrange that, then," Tyon said, giving Matz a kiss. "You rest for now - watch, enjoy, but not too much. I still want you to be hard afterwards - either for him or for me." 

Matz smiled, sliding over to lie down in the space Tyon had just vacated. Istaf was squirming impatiently as Tyon took a leisurely moment to stroke his ass, and Matz held back a chuckle at the sight. The delicate, elegant Durniagan prince, now with his pretty golden hair in a mess, lying there with his ass in the air, all red-cheeked and glassy-eyed, pleading to be fucked. "Keep your hands off your dick," Matz instructed him, "until I say so. If you can't, I'll have to pin your hands down - don't make me do that." It wasn't about cruelty - he just knew that the young man would probably come as soon as he did so. 

Istaf mumbled something that sounded like a curse, but halfway through it turned into a cry as Tyon slid inside him. "There, oh, good," the king gasped, holding himself back, not immediately starting to thrust, giving him a chance to adjust to the sensation. Only once he thought Istaf was ready did he pull back and deliver a long, slow stroke, followed by another, and another. Istaf gasped at the new feeling - it really was nothing like what he had prepared for. Hungry for more, he began to reach for his cock, only to have Matz grasp his wrist and pin it to the bed. 

"I told you to wait," he said firmly. "Trust me." He glanced up at Tyon, keeping a watch on his lover's face, observing on the pace he was setting. "I'll let you know when he's close." 

Overwhelmed, Istaf could only nod. "I'll be good," he said. "Let go."

Matz released his wrist, but kept an eye on him to make sure he wasn't disobeying his instructions. He knew Tyon's expressions, the sounds he would make, and could tell when he was starting to reach his own climax, and he knew it was still some way off. He lay back, enjoying the view as Tyon fucked his new husband, stroking himself idly as he watched them slam against one another. Istaf's pleas had dissolved into wordless moaning, and his hips were jerking with each thrust. He clutched the blanket tight in his hands, behaving just as Matz had ordered him. That felt good. For a little while, Matz considered not telling him that Tyon was getting close - making him wait longer - but he thought Tyon would like to have his husband come when he did. "Alright," he told Istaf, when he sensed the time was near, "now."

He didn't need any encouragement - his hand was underneath him in a flash, jerking frantically at his desperate cock. Tyon gave a drawn-out groan as he felt the change in Istaf's motions, thrusting harder until they came almost in unison. The king fell forward, pinning his husband down with the weight of his body, and kissed the back of his neck as he lay there for a long moment. At last he slid off him, panting, so that he was lying between Matz and Istaf. 

"Now," he said, looking up at Matz, "what do you want, love?"

"Well, he's probably too worn out now," Matz said, suspecting that it would provoke the prince. 

As he guessed, Istaf lifted his head. "I'm not," he insisted. "I can do it."

"Remember being nineteen?" Tyon said with a playful smile. "I'm sure he can manage. Just be gentle with him."

Matz laughed. "I don't think he wants gentle. Do you?"

In answer, Istaf flipped over, drawing his knees up. They could both see that he was already stiffening again. "I'll take anything you want."

Taking a moment to give Tyon a kiss on the way over, Matz moved so that he could mount Istaf. He'd been waiting long enough this night, but still he took a few moments to give the younger man a good look at his cock, its thick, heavy head and long shaft. "You're sure about this?"

Istaf nodded. "I'm sure." He reached out so he could clasp Tyon's hand, and with his other he started stroking his own dick. "But I'm not waiting for you to tell me it's okay this time."

"Fine," Matz said, and slid his hands under Istaf's hips to lift him where he wanted him. When he had him in position, he wasted no time in pushing his way into that stretched-out hole, feeling the wet slick of the oil mingled with Tyon's seed, the looseness of what had, just a short while ago, been a virgin ass. He grunted and pushed in deeper, enjoying the shocked look on Istaf's face as he was stretched even further than before. 

Tyon leaned in, stroking his husband's sweat-damp hair, murmuring reassurances to him as Matz began to pump into him. Istaf could only moan in response, and soon he could barely even coordinate his movements enough to touch himself - he could only concentrate on the massive cock that was filling him until he felt like he would split in two. Tyon generously took over, grasping Istaf's dick and rubbing him in time with Matz' strokes. "Very good," he said to him. "He likes it - don't you, Matz?"

Matz nodded. "You got him nice and wet for me," he said, thrusting harder. He wanted to draw it out, maybe make Istaf suffer a bit for his cockiness, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back for long. He drove into him with rough strokes, making the younger man practically sob with the intensity of it all. 

"Too much?" Tyon asked, momentarily concerned.

"Nuh, no, unh, please, more," Istaf begged, his words coming out in broken pieces. Matz adjusted his grip so he could hold him by the thighs, pushing them back so he was spread open even further. Istaf cried out, shuddering into a second orgasm with barely any warning. Surprised, Matz quickened his pace, finally emptying himself into the young man's utterly wrecked hole. 

Afterwards they put Istaf in the middle, between them, so they could each take turns holding him and comforting him. Tyon was the more affectionate, but Matz took his share of the responsibility too, enveloping him in his strong arms and telling him he'd done well. Once the newly-minted royal consort finally dozed off on his chest, Matz reached over to Tyon, taking his hand, and they curled close together. It was a worthy peace after all, Matz decided, even if it hadn't been achieved with battle. Tomorrow, they could work on what would come next.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, as Emrich was trying not to nod off in his master's armor, someone knocked on his breastplate. He jumped to attention, hoping whoever it was wouldn't ask him any questions. "Relax, it's just me," Frena's voice said, so he pushed his helmet open so he could look down at her.

"Look," she said reasonably, "everyone else has gone to bed. And they've got to be asleep in there, I haven't heard any screaming in ages. Come take a break."

Emrich wavered slightly, torn between his sense of duty and the ache in his muscles. "I don't know. Maybe..."

"There's a spare room just over there," she pointed out with a smile. "No one's going to be using it tonight. I could keep you company." That was enough to convince him, and, returning her smile, he let her draw him away.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!


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